A DIALOGUE Betwixt H.⟨enry⟩ B⟨rome⟩'s. GHOST, AND His Dear Author R.⟨oge⟩ L.⟨e-⟩ S.⟨trange⟩ ⟨20. May .1681.⟩
GHOST.
BE not afraid, its kindness brings me here,
And makes me leave a while the lower Sphere;
That I in time may warn thee of the wrong,
Done by thy Scribling Pen and Lying Tongue.
Tho' I indeed can tell thee now no more,
Than thy own Conscience oft has told before:
Yet that thou mayn't thy Wicked Course still tread,
I'm come to give Thee warning from the Dead.
I can't by Words or Gain deceived be,
For now I can through all disguises see:
Repent for thou grow'st old, must yield to Fate,
I say repent, before it be too late;
For all those Lies I usher'd to the World,
Deceiv'd by thee, now, in m face are hurl'd,
That witty Mal [...]ce I did once admire,
H [...]d in thy Works like Sulphur now takes Fire,
And though to you on Earth I still prov'd kind,
'Tis from your Pamphlets I my Torment find;
For with those Sheets I Printed, now well dry'd,
The wicked Devils singe and scorch my Hide:
If thus to me such Punishment's assign'd,
What Torment will they for the Author find?
You see therefore to warn thee I'm kind.
L.⟨e⟩ S.⟨trange.⟩
In the Name of the Goblin of Hobgoblins, a Dissentor, what makest thee to come to trouble me? Tho' I am not much afraid of Devils, believing none, yet thou hast made me start: Beshrew thee, I was afraid thou hadst been come to ask me money. Prethee go and be Damn'd if thou wilt; I do not desire thy Company, since I can make no more use of thee.
GHOST.
Ungrateful Wretch, am I a trouble now?
Who to my cost, so useful was to you?
I who alive, was your ill ridden Slave,
No sooner am I dropt into the Grave,
But all's forgot, and what to me seems worse,
My very kindness now you count a Curse:
Is it because to me so much you owe,
Or else, for that I now your inside know?
Provoke me not, lest to the World I tell
Those hidden times you know I can reveal.
L. S.
Dear Friend Ghost don't think to affright me with that; You may know too, if you please, how I have Wit enough to make the World believe any thing, and that I have Impudence enough to outface all Accusations and Oaths, That I have Courage enough to abuse every Body, and that I have Dissimulation enough to appear what I am not, so that say what you will, no body shall believe you.
GHOST.
And such a Fool was I, whilst I did live,
Deceived by you, I did the World deceive;
But though the World will not believe my Ghost,
And that on it my Words and Truth were lost;
Yet since this Voyage was in kindness meant,
Methinks that I should move you to Repent,
And touch your hardned Soul with some remorse,
And make you leave your Wicked, Lying Course.
L. S.
Good Ghost leave Preaching, and don't trouble me with thy Impertinence, we have had so many arise from the Dead of late, that they are grown familiar, and almost contemptible: You had therefore as good hold your Tongue, for you'l be but laught at: And as for my self, do you think I care for your Morallity or Divinity either; I lov'd you very well, while alive, but 'twas for my own ends, and I am not a little troubled at your Death, because I shall never meet with such another, so very useful as thou hast been, and I shall be at a great loss. I know thou hast suffered upon my Account, but have not I Eternised thy Name with my own, and over-paid thee for all? and I was thinking to have wrote thy Elegy; had not you come thus to interrupt me, and to accuse me for doing so much Good to my Country, and satisfying my Conscience in shewing my Loyalty to my King, and my Zeal to the Church, against these Vermine and Pests of the Nation, that write and speak against me and Popery.
GHOST.
[Page]It is a sign you fear not God, nor Hell,
Since thou to me so, reat a Lye dar'st tell
To me, who now all your pretences know,
All has to me discover'd been below.
To brag of Loyalty, to me refram;
Your Loyalty I understand is Gain:
Your Love to King, your County and your Friends,
Is but to serve your base and wicked Ends:
'Tis Malice and Revenge, which you call Zeal,
For Holy Church, and for the Common Weal:
I know full well what I t'rest you drive on,
And whom you would Advance unto the Throne.
Death has new Senses given, new Ears and Eyes,
I was before a Fool, but now grown Wise:
For every thing, I now have seen and heard,
And how your Zeal is fired with Reward.
And prithee since here's none but I and You,
Tell me, let Conscience tell me, is'nt this true?
L. S.
What a Preaching Book seller are thou become? What hast thou to do with me and Conscience? do you think I am now to be Catechised by a paltry Ghost about Conscience? come, come, I have studied the point, and question not, of you will furnish me with Books, as thou wert wont to do, but to argue my Case with Advantage at Lucifers Bar, and baffle all his Orators. But, tell me, how you came to be so Poetical? do they all speak in Rhime in the neither World?
GHOST.
Use you your Drolling Prose, this fits my Mind,
Thus Oracles of Old did speak, you find:
The Crimes of Men, Satyrs do still Rehearse,
In poynant Rhyme, and in two Edged Verse.
Grave as a Church man, I your faults would tell,
To keep your Soul from being Damn'd in Hell:
If you at last will sober grow and wise,
Leave your black Crimes, and follow my Advice.
L. S.
I warn't you'l advise me turn honest, undeceive the People, Recant, ask Forgiveness of those I have Wrong'il, do as I would be done unto, and such like Moral Stuff: turn Honest, that's Impossible, what a shame would that [...]e after so many years Travelling in another Road? and what should I get by it? honesty won't Cloth the Back, nor fill the Belly, as the World goes: I fancy De-que-vedoes, Hell is a much better place than the starving Purgatory of Honesty.And as for asking forgiveness, what a Task would that be? 'twould ask more years than I have Weeks to live, I have wrong'd and abused so many, a whole Nation at least. I am better Principl'd than so, and have seen more leading Precedents.
GHOST.
I see the Fiend that Lodges in thy Heart,
But I have done for thee a Friendly part;
I've told thee what at last will be thy Doom,
Though thou still laugh'st at what is yet to come.
Go on, believe not what thou do'st not see;
Believe not living Oracles, nor me.
Thirst after Gain, Honour, and empty Fame,
And get at last for all, a Crack-fart's Name.
Fond man, do'st think thou can'st a Nation sway,
Or the grand Wheel of Fate that's turning, stay.
With thy still scribling and defaming Pen?
Which makes thee hated of all honest men:
With Diamond Pen in Brass thy Works are wrot,
That they below may never be forgot.
They'l worser prove than your great Senates Vote,
And thine own Words will serve to cut thy Throat:
For the more stir thou with thy Pen dost keep,
Tho' here perhaps thou may'st some profit reap,
Thy Crimes and Punishment do both Increase:
Thy wit is grown thy burthen and Disease,
Justice below is to the Crimes made fit,
Which will condemn thy vile pernicious wit:
And what to others trouble gave above,
Below for e're shall thy own Torment prove:
There's but one way this Justice to prevent,
Leave scribling, ask forgiveness, and Repent.
R. S.
So he's gon: I hope he'l now be quiet: This is, I think, the nine and thirtieth warning I have had; and to as little purpose, as all the rest, and so I'le, let 'um know in my next Pamphlet, which shall out as soon as I can agree with a Book-seller. 'Tis good to be true to ones Principles.
T [...] Ghosts talk what they will of Hell and Pain,
From real pleasure they shan't me restrain:
The Itch of Scribling, and the sweet of Gain.
FINIS.